Wednesday, November 04, 2015

The bravery of Conner, who died in 1998 at the age of 79, is well-documented. The first lieutenant, who was wounded seven times, earned an incredible four Silver Stars, four Bronze Stars, seven Purple Hearts and the Distinguished Service Cross for his World War II heroism. But it was what he did on Jan. 24, 1945, near Houssen, France, that elevated his courage to mythical status.

And the story would have remained in obscurity, alive only in Conner’s mind and packed away in a cardboard box near his Albany, Ky., home, were it not for Chilton.

Chilton, a veteran of the Korean War who later trained Israeli fighters during the Gulf War, wanted to learn more about his uncle, Army Pfc. Gordon Wesley Roberts. All he knew was that the brave man he remembered from his boyhood had served in the 3rd Infantry Division and had never made it home from World War II. It was 1995, and Chilton, now 82, started tracking down men from the division, which included movie star Audie Murphy – himself a Medal of Honor recipient – and which lost more men than any other in the war.

“I’d called about 200 men, and no one really was able to tell me much about my uncle,” Chilton recalled. “I was ready to give up but I tried one more. I left a message with Garlin Murl Conner.”

A few days later, Chilton got a cryptic message on his answering machine.

“I knew your uncle,” Conner said. “I was with him the night he died. He died from small arms fire. More to follow.”

The Medal of Honor is the military's highest honor, and is awarded by the Commander-in-Chief.

“I knew your uncle,” Conner said. “I was with him the night he died. He died from small arms fire. More to follow.”

But that was the last Chilton heard from Conner. When he finally mailed a letter to him, Conner’s wife, Pauline, wrote back to say her husband had had a stroke days later and could no longer speak. Chilton, who lives in Genoa City, Wis., drove more than 500 miles to Conner’s home in the desperate hope that a face-to-face meeting might yield information.

But it did not. As a dejected Chilton was walking out the door of the Conner home, Pauline suggested he look through her husband’s records. Maybe there would be a clue about his uncle there, she said. She emerged from a back room with a box full of medals, commendations, yellowed newspaper clippings and faded photographs.

Chilton found nothing on his uncle, but his amazement grew as he spent the next few hours digging through the box.

“I discovered the most decorated soldier I’d ever heard of,” Chilton said. “I was blown away. I’ve never seen a man with four Silver Stars.”

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

I've recently, within the last month or so, decided to scale a mountain. A very high mountain... for me. And note I said scale, which means not just climb to the top but actually go over it.

Here's the tough part, the counterintuitive part.

I climb the mountain... by going low. Really low. Seriously low. And I don't do low well. Really. I don't. I suck at going low.

The mountain is pride. A mountain that's done me in mucho times in the past, at work, at home, with family, with friends. A mountain that I think has been an obstacle to lots of things for me personally, the biggest likely being my walking in the will of God.

I'm not scaling the mountain alone. In fact, through trial and error, I've come to know that attempting to scale the mountain alone is an absolute sign that you've already failed the attempt.

As I've mentioned, I started this trek a few weeks ago.

I started by regularly praying the following prayer, one called the Litany of Humility:

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.From the desire of being esteemed,Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved…From the desire of being extolled …From the desire of being honored …From the desire of being praised …From the desire of being preferred to others…From the desire of being consulted …From the desire of being approved …From the fear of being humiliated …From the fear of being despised…From the fear of suffering rebukes …From the fear of being calumniated …From the fear of being forgotten …From the fear of being ridiculed …From the fear of being wronged …From the fear of being suspected …

That others may be loved more than I,Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I …That, in the opinion of the world,others may increase and I may decrease …That others may be chosen and I set aside …That others may be praised and I unnoticed …That others may be preferred to me in everything…That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…

Amen.

That's a tough prayer. Extremely tough. Made tough by the very mountain I'm trying to scale. Read again the list of desires, the list of fears, I'm asking to be delivered from. It's huge stuff. Very large, wide, big, huge stuff.

The first time I came across the prayer, I blanched big time, that dreaded mountain looming so large in front of me it completely obscured the deep truths found within the prayer.

Yesterday morning, I came across this from Msgr. Charles Pope. A piece partnering nicely with the prayer, a piece helping to better define what humility is... and what it isn't:

It [humility] is not to be reduced to mere human respect or flattery, or rooted in worldly and servile fear. True humility has us abase ourselves before others based on what is of God in them. The humble person does not abase himself before others for what is wicked in them. Indeed, many holy and humble people have had to rebuke the wicked and suffer because of it.

Consider our Lord, who found it necessary to rebuke the leaders of His day. Consider John the Baptist, who rebuked Herod; or the Apostles, who refused the command to speak Jesus’ name no longer. These were humble men, but they also knew that the first humility belongs to God, and that no humility toward human beings can ever eclipse or overrule the humility due to God.

Therefore the modern notion of “Who am I to judge?” is not proper humility. Rather, it is rooted more in a kind of sloth (cloaked in the self-congratulatory language of tolerance) that avoids humbly seeking truth and being conformed to it. The truly humble person is open to correcting others and to being corrected, because humility always regards the truth.

...

And that lead us finally to a kind of focal statement about humility: “Humility is reverence for the truth about ourselves.” Indeed, the focus of humility is always the truth.

And what is the truth? You are gifted, but incomplete.

Humility doesn’t say, “Aw shucks, I’m nothing.” That is not true. You are God’s creation and are imbued with gifts. But note this: they are gifts. You did not acquire them on your own. God gave them to you. And most often, He gave them to you through others who raised you, taught you, and helped you to attain the skills and discover the gifts that were within you. So you do have gifts. But they are gifts. Scripture says, What have you that you have not received? And if you have received, why do you glory as though you had not received? (1 Cor 4:7)

But though you are gifted, you do not have all the gifts. And this is the other truth of humility: that God and others must augment your many deficiencies. For whatever your gifts, and however numerous they are, you do not have all the gifts or even most of them. That is only possible in relationship with God and His people.

One thing I'm convinced as I earnestly strive toward the goal of scaling this mountain is that I'm not going to do so quickly, that I'll have setbacks, that the mountain will at times beat me... but only temporarily.

When the setbacks come, I'll camp out wherever it is on the mountain I'll be at the time and pray that litany, seeking the help of He who overcame this very mountain for all of us by going as low as one can go, to the very depths.

Friday, July 31, 2015

I've been rather stridently passionate in voicing my disgust these last couple of days as I continue to see and gauge the reaction to the news concerning the killing of the lion named Cecil in Zimbabwe and the non-reaction in some circles of the release of the Center for Medical Progress' Planned Parenthood videos.

There's a strong possibility that perhaps I've been overly passionate, a tad too zealous, particularly toward those who while voicing their indignation about Cecil's killing have been silent about the videos. The disparity in reactions has to me been jarring and beyond my ability to understand and/or comprehend.

Many Americans call themselves pro-choice, but are uncomfortable with unlimited abortion on demand, and these videos could help tip the balance in their hearts. But even as we hope and pray that the videos accomplish this conversion, let's not forget another large population of Americans, whose hearts matter just as much: the population of women who have had abortions.

Many thousands of women regret their abortions, and are haunted even decades later by what they have done, and what has been done to them. Thousands more are troubled and wounded, but aren't ready to make the connection between their suffering and their abortions. And for every one of those thousands of mothers of an aborted child, there is a post-abortive father, too. Many of these men never had a choice in the matter, and many pushed for an abortion and later regretted it.

So let's be careful as we use the videos, how we display the preview images, and what we say about the mothers of those poor babies. There is nothing righteous about grinding someone's face in a past sin. Like everything powerful and sacred, the images of those babies should be used with great care, because they have the potential to wound and damage along with the potential to change minds. As Susan Windley-Daoust said yesterday on Facebook:

This is likely a moment when many women (and men who helped women, or told women, to get abortions) are coming face to face with the harsh reality of their past. If you are reading this and find yourself in that category, there are people who want to help ...

I did not have an abortion, but every human alive knows what it is like to be hoodwinked and to make decisions they regret.

If you have had an abortion, you are not alone. Rachel's Vinyard offers healing retreats for women wounded by abortion, and Project Rachel offers free counselling, as well as adivce for how to help a friend who has had an abortion.

And for abortion workers who want to get out of the industry, And Then There Were None offers free financial, legal, and emotional support from peers who have left the industry, and helps abortion workers find ethical new jobs,

My passion on this topic is not likely to subside any time soon as I think frankly it shouldn't but I do hope, in the light of Simcha's piece, I'll be a tad more cognizant of what might be the reason for some of the baffling silence I'm seeing in the world from certain segments of my social media aware friends.

Lord, help us all deal with this passion inducing subject and help us remember the humanity of those we disagree with.

Monday, February 02, 2015

“The Divine Command was not like thy neighbor but love thy neighbor, because it is hard to like certain kinds of people, such as those who step on our toes or make funny noises when they drink soup. When there is no spontaneous love, love begins only as a duty. But as we learn to write by writing, to cook by cooking, to be courteous by practicing kindliness, so we learn to love by loving. The I ought after a while passes to I love.”

In Brittany’s video, her mother mentions that her immediate hope was for a miracle. My response to my diagnosis was the same – I hoped for a miraculous recovery so that I would not have to deal with the suffering and pain that was likely to come. However, I now realize that a “miracle” does not necessarily mean an instant cure. If it did, would we not die from something else later in our lives? Is there any reason that we deserve fifteen, twenty, or thirty or more years of life? Every day of life is a gift, and gifts can be taken away in an instant. Anyone who suffers from a terminal illness or has lost someone close to them knows this very well.

I have outlived my dismal prognosis, which I believe to be a miracle, but more importantly, I have experienced countless miracles in places where I never expected to find them. Throughout my preparation for the priesthood I have been able to empathize with the sick and suffering in hospitals and nursing homes. I have traveled to Lourdes, France, the site of a Marian apparition and a place of physical and spiritual healing that is visited by millions of pilgrims each year. I have had the great opportunity to serve the infirm there who trust in God with their whole hearts to make sense of their suffering. Through my interaction with these people, I received much more than I gave. I learned that the suffering and heartache that is part of the human condition does not have to be wasted and cut short out of fear or seeking control in a seemingly uncontrollable situation. Perhaps this is the most important miracle that God intends for me to experience.

Suffering is not worthless, and our lives are not our own to take. As humans we are relational – we relate to one another and the actions of one person affects others. Sadly, the concept of “redemptive suffering” – that human suffering united to the suffering of Jesus on the Cross for our salvation can benefit others – has often been ignored or lost in modern times. It is perfectly understandable that medication should be made available to give comfort and limit suffering as much as possible during the dying process, especially during a terminal illness, but it is impossible to avoid suffering altogether. We do not seek pain for its own sake, but our suffering can have great meaning if we try to join it to the Passion of Christ and offer it for the conversion or intentions of others. While often terrifying, the suffering and pain that we will all experience in our lives can be turned into something positive. This has been a very difficult task for me, but it is possible to achieve.

There is a card on Brittany’s website asking for signatures “to support her bravery in this very tough time.” I agree that her time is tough, but her decision is anything but brave. I do feel for her and understand her difficult situation, but no diagnosis warrants suicide. A diagnosis of terminal cancer uproots one’s whole life, and the decision to pursue physician-assisted suicide seeks to grasp at an ounce of control in the midst of turmoil. It is an understandable temptation to take this course of action, but that is all that it is – a temptation to avoid an important reality of life. By dying on one’s “own terms,” death seems more comfortable in our culture that is sanitized and tends to avoid any mention of the suffering and death that will eventually come to us all.

Brittany comments, “I hope to pass in peace. The reason to consider life and what’s of value is to make sure you’re not missing out, seize the day, what’s important to you, what do you care about – what matters – pursue that, forget the rest.” Sadly, Brittany will be missing out on the most intimate moments of her life – her loved ones comforting her through her suffering, her last and most personal moments with her family, and the great mystery of death – in exchange for a quicker and more “painless” option that focuses more on herself than anyone else.

Monday, October 20, 2014

We are wounded by God because in being touched by Him we have been opened to a whole new way of living and seeing the world. Opened in this way we respond by going out of ourselves, offering ourselves up. As St. John of the Cross puts it “…after wounding me;/ I went out calling you, but you were gone.” These wounds then are wounds of love, of openness to the Other.

Such openness takes the form of a wound because we are not yet able to fully embrace God while we remain in sin and imperfect. There is no other way: We must be open to God before we can be filled by God.

As we come closer to Him, however, our wounds only worsen, as it were, as the dross of sin is melted away from our souls.

Not exactly what we hear from the televangelists, from the name it and claim it crowd, the prosperity gospel-arians, the well coiffed get rich quick theologians, all who flood the airwaves with their heretical bottom-of-the-birdcage-make-Jesus-your-Savior-and-be-happy claptrap.

If I've learned anything about faith, orthodox, traditional, historic faith (and not the sort of shallow, Hallmark sentimentalism too many are selling and too many more, so very sadly, are buying), is that faith can in fact be most painful.

Faith that lasts, faith that overcomes, faith that sustains, perseveres and eventually brings the greatest of comfort is faith that comes paradoxically from wrestling with God and from the pain God allows to happen in our lives. It's the faith taught by the Saints and especially by their lives. It's the faith passed down over the ages. The faith taught by the Church. It's the faith we all seek though many of us unknowingly, even blindly.

A source of joy is found in the overcoming of the sense of the uselessness of suffering, a feeling that is sometimes very strongly rooted in human suffering. This feeling not only consumes the person interiorly but seems to make him a burden to others. The person feels condemned to receive help and assistance from others and at the same time seems useless to himself. The discovery of the salvific meaning of suffering in union with Christ transforms this depressing feeling. Faith in sharing in the suffering of Christ brings with it the interior certainty that the suffering person "completes what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions"; the certainty that in the spiritual dimension of the work of redemption he is serving, like Christ, the salvation of his brothers and sisters. Therefore he is carrying out an irreplaceable service. (SD 27)

I've not yet suffered like a Saint. I hope in fact to never have to but I'm conforted by the fact that should Saintly suffering come, I'm enmeshed in the faith they used to overcome it.

God help all who suffer see You in that suffering and might they be sustained by that seeing.

Monday, August 18, 2014

He plays a sport dominated by exactness and a long tradition of honor and truth and rule adherence — and pro golfer Cameron Tringale found himself facing a possibility he couldn’t shake.

The Mission Viejo, California, native just bagged $53,000 in prize money for coming in 33rd place at the 2014 PGA Championship. Not a bad way to spend a few days.

But along with the cash, Tringale also had a guilty conscience.

His was a momentary, miniscule miscue — if it happened at all. He’s not even sure.

But all the same Tringale, 26, felt he may have missed a stroke when attempting to tap in the ball on the 11th hole last Sunday, noted Yahoo Sport of UK and Ireland. Thing is the possible missed stroke never made it on his scorecard — and Trinangle signed the scorecard.

So he told officials what was on his mind — knowing full well the consequences.

“Realizing that there could be the slightest doubt that the swing over the ball should have been recorded as a stroke, I spoke with the PGA of America and shared with them my conclusion that the stroke should have been recorded,” he noted to Yahoo Sport.

More from Yahoo Sport:

Nobody saw it. The man himself isn’t even sure whether he did it or not. He’s not even sure if it should have counted as a stroke or not, since it’s a grey area as to whether or not he had actually addressed the ball to make his stroke (and if you’ve not addressed the ball to try and hit it, there is no penalty).

But signing an incorrect scorecard means a disqualification — and bye bye to his prize money.

Bye bye to prize money, hello to moral clarity and the sacrifice that goes at times with putting it on display.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

... in the Western Catholic blogosphere with the state of Catholicism in Central Africa.

For those not in the know, a major kerfluffle broke out amongst a number of Catholic bloggers that I link to frequently and those that I do not. I leave it to The Anchoress to give a bit of a summary:

Right now, I am forced to use this puny amount of energy I possess in order to address a breathtaking fog of stupidity that is poisoning the air of faith we all need to breathe.

In Israel my wifi was spotty, so I missed its inception, but an ongoing brouhaha has brought all sorts of requests into my email box from people requesting that I either “discipline” Mark Shea and Simcha Fisher, or “correct” them, or “get them to remove these Facebook posts” or “fire them.”

Well, I’m not going to do any of that. But I will explain why, as respectfully as I know how.The issue is this: On May 23, Life Site News (LSN) published a piece by Hilary White that — when taken in its entirety — amounted to, “Oh-my-gawd-the-pope-concelebrated-mass-and-kissed-the-hand-of-a-93-year-old-dissenting-priest-who-defends-homosexual-love-and-homosexual-and-isn’t-this-horrible-about-the-dissenting-homosexual-and-awful-Francis-and-homosexualists-and-homosexual!”

LSN’s intention in publishing the story was to present the known facts about a public meeting between the pope and one of Italy’s leading Catholic dissidents – a newsworthy event in itself. However, in retrospect we recognize that in the absence of certain necessary clarifications and contexts the facts alone, as presented, unnecessarily lent themselves to misinterpretation.

The statement probably should have ended there, but the writers felt the need to outline three possible reasons (among potentially scores of them) for the pope’s meeting, all of them problematic, all of them sheer conjecture.

Bottom line, and I'll admit that I've not followed it all to the full as it's more than a little discouraging, is that lots of ugliness, name-calling, character assassination and more broke out as a result and all I can think is how this is impacting those outside looking in on the Catholic Church.

Muslim rebels stormed a Catholic church compound in the capital of Central African Republic on Wednesday, killing at least 30 people in a hail of gunfire and grenades, witnesses said.

The attack on the compound at the Church of Fatima, where hundreds of civilians had sought refuge from the violence ravaging Bangui’s streets, is the largest blamed on Muslim fighters since their Seleka coalition was ousted from power nearly five months ago.

Wednesday’s attack marked a rare attack on a house of worship, as Catholic churches have served as sanctuaries for both Christian and Muslim civilians since the country erupted into sectarian bloodshed in December.

Fears escalated late Wednesday that the new bloodshed would spark reprisal attacks on the city’s few remaining Muslims, most of whom fled the city in a mass exodus earlier this year that the U.N. has described as ethnic cleansing.

“We were in the church when were heard the shooting outside,” the Rev. Freddy Mboula told The Associated Press. “There were screams and after 30 minutes of gunfire there were bodies everywhere.”

About 30 people were killed in the attack, according to another priest at the scene, the Rev. Paul Emile Nzale.

If you'll follow the Muslim fighters link, you'll note that lots of tit for tat killing is taking place and in the midst of it all are numerous Catholic churches.

I can't help but think that a truce of sorts in the Catholic blogosphere ought to take place and energies expended in smearing and belittling each other might instead be spent in prayer for those in the midst of the carnage taking place in central Africa.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Ron Kinney, 67, waits tables at the French Quarter Restaurant in West Hollywood, California. In December, he received a huge tip on a $50 bill - but threw away the receipt, thinking that a diner had simply had too much to drink.

Unbeknown to Mr Kinney, 'Tips for Jesus' is a phenomenon sweeping the country where restaurant staff from New York to Arizona have been left thousands of dollars by an extremely generous, anonymous patron.